How to Drown The Stars
by HogwartsAsWeKnowIt
Summary: "Remember, Steph," Natasha faced her. "Whenever there's shadows, that means there's a light nearby." Stephanie Rogers is alone, broken, and forgotten in a world she doesn't belong in. After she gets injured, the Avengers discover her dark secrets. Can they save her before she's too lost? (Fem!Dark!Steve, updated every Sunday)
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

**x.X.x**

Rated T for depression/language/violence

Dedicated to Katelyn and Joely

Author's Note:

_With all the pain I've been going through with depression and other shit, it's fun to take it out on fictional characters._

_Thus this was born._

_Disclaimer: if I owned Marvel, I would make a movie where Chris Evans had to fuck me. But seeing as that hasn't happened yet, I think it's pretty obvious that I don't own a certain billion dollar company._

_Also, I imagine a female Captain America/Steve Rogers to look like Toni Garrn. If you don't know who she is, just look her up in Google Images. She is a very beautiful woman. (The cover image for this is her, and I got it off Google. Don't own it)_

_Please R&R!_

_~HogwartsAsWeKnowIt_

**x.X.x**

Emotions.

Recently, she just wasn't able to keep them under control. They had become so complex and confusing, that her heart was torn into a million different pieces. However, she managed to hide them from the team. Hell, she hid everything from the team. Her dark secrets were locked deep inside her, and they seemed to be eating away at her soul, causing her to be consumed more and more each day into her pit of pain. And the nightmares, there was just no escape. Everytime she closed her eyes, some miserable memory would come flooding back. A dead soldier, Bucky falling from her grasp into an unforgiving frozen wasteland, someone dying from a shot she had just fired... Surrounded by misery, she felt like she was trapped. She never wanted this, never asked for it. Yet someone had given it to her. If there was any way to return it, she would in a heartbeat. But since she hadn't figured that out yet, Stephanie Rogers faked a smile and went on with her life, pretending to only care for other people's problems; some days she acted like she didn't have a care in the world. Yet at three a.m. or some other ungodly hour, her pillow was damp with tears and the bathroom sink was stained with blood. No one cared, there was no one who reached out to her. The Avengers thought she was doing well in fact, embracing her time leap from the forties to the twenty-first century. If they only knew.

Everyone saw her as America's golden hero instead of Stephanie Rogers, the broken girl with a scarred heart. No one gave a damn about her feelings, what she cared about... To everyone else she was a chorus girl, a show monkey, a science experiment wearing tights. She wasn't human, she couldn't be hurt, she was perfect. But they were so wrong.

Even with all the pain, she still managed to have her good days and bad days. Today, on the other hand, was a bad day.

It had all started at around five a.m., when she awoke from a nightmare with Penn. Penn Carter was the only love interest she ever had. He had reached out to her, tried to get to know her as an individual. They had kissed, blissful and sweet, before she crashed a plane over the North Atlantic and was lost in the bitter frost that matched her heart. Now he was gone too.

But in the dream he had returned. They were dancing in a fancy ballroom, with dim lighting, vanilla candles, and white roses. Wearing a silky, floral gown, Stephanie had felt like a princess. The man in her arms was her Prince Charming, saving her from the horrors of the outside world. His light brown hair was neatly combed, with his chocolate eyes expressing an endless amount of love. Everything had ceased. No war, no hurting, no Nazis or HYDRA or Red Skull. Just him and her, dancing.

However, the dream took an abrupt turn for the worse when the world exploded from an unseen bomb source. Stephanie had survived the explosion and was crawling through smoking rubble when she found Penn's body, burned, cracked, and lifeless.

She had awoken to her own blood-curdling scream.

Deciding not to fall asleep again, she had slipped on a pair of sweats and a loose T-shirt and headed down a couple of floors to the gym. Seeing as it was for earth's mightiest heroes, the gym in Avengers (previously Stark) Tower was massive, thoroughly stocked, and impressive to any athlete. Punching bags lined one wall, while treadmills and other excercise machines were laid out in a complicated pattern. An Olympic sized swimming pool lay at the far end, complete with towels and chairs. A boxing ring stood in the left corner, where two Avengers usually settled their differences. When she passed it, she couldn't help but showing a weak grin. She had made plenty of memories because of that boxing ring, including some she'd be grateful to forget. After wrapping her hands, she began on a single bag, which of course did not last long. Losing track of time, she absorbed herself in the workout. Soon she was sweating, panting, and ready for a break, three things that did not happen often to Captain America. Glancing at the digital clock on the wall, she realized she had been boxing for four straight hours. After grabbing two bottled waters, she exited the gym and took the advanced elevator to the kitchen, surprised to meet some colleagues who also were in search for breakfast.

Letting the last drip of the second water bottle glide down her throat, she then proceeded to throw the two empty containers into the recycle from across the room. A satisfying _CLUNK _and she knew she made her target.

"And a three-pointer by Rogers!" Clint exclaimed, talking into the banana he was eating as if it were a yellow microphone.

Not to anyone's surprise, Clint was perched on the top of the fridge, although it was a mystery to some on how he got up there. Sipping a steaming cup of coffee, Natasha leaned against the marble countertop, and rolled her eyes at the Hawk's lame humor. Both eating scrambled eggs and toast, Bruce and Thor sat at the mahogany table. Tony was sprawled out on the couch, with a glass of scotch in one hand and the TV remote in the other, watching the News.

"There you are Cap, haven't seen you all morning," Banner greeted her.

"Been at the gym," Stephanie nodded, opening the fridge which forced Barton to sit cross-legged instead of dangling his legs over the edge like he was before.

"I can tell," Natasha raised an eyebrow.

Everyone was dressed and refreshed except Stephanie, but she didn't care. It was only 9:32 anyways, and a Saturday for that matter. Upon opening, Stephanie noticed the fridge was unnaturally barren, lacking its usual goodies such as yogurt, apples, milk and juice, etc. Looks like someone would have to go grocery shopping. Although she didn't really like eating because it just made her feel fat, Stephanie knew she needed something to fuel her. When you had the super-soldier serum and a blazing metabolism, you needed food, and lots of it. However, Rogers hadn't exactly been nourishing her body that well as of late. If she thought no one was noticing, she was wrong. Natasha was observing her silently, using her spy knowledge so that Stephanie wouldn't notice her gaze. The master assassin knew that depressed people often didn't eat, and she couldn't help but take note that Stephanie's portions during every meal seemed to be decreasing.

"Hey, Steph, want me to make you some toast?" the red-head offered, hoping for 'yes' as the reply.

"No, thank you. I'll just have some almonds," Stephanie easily reached into the highest cupboard, pulling out a bag of the unsalted nuts. She was 6 foot, after all.

"You need a better breakfast than that," Tasha's trained eyes followed the Captain's every move.

By now, the other Avengers were starting to absent-mindedly place their attention on Stephanie's and Natasha's conversation.

"I'm fine, ma'am," Stephanie muttered. "Stark eats breakfast every other Tuesday. Why aren't you bothering him about it?"

"Because Tony Stark is a goddamn moron and doesn't take care of his body in any way and I've given up trying to fix it. You, however, are much smarter than that," Natasha placed her mug on the counter and crossed her arms, her cold grey eyes staring at the Captain.

"HEY! Excuuuuse me!" Tony yelped, although he couldn't exactly deny it.

"What aren't you telling us, Stephanie?" Clint gently asked. To be honest, he had been noticing a few changes in the beloved Captain as well. Such as how she always seemed so...tired.

"Nothing. There's nothing to tell. I'm just tired, that's all," Stephanie shrugged, popping a few almonds in her mouth.

A better answer would have been:

I'm just tired. I'm tired of crying, yelling, being sad, pretending, being alone, angry, of feeling crazy, stuck, and helpless. I'm tired of remembering, missing everything, being different, feeling worthless, empty, and not being able to let go. I'm tired of wishing it could just start over, dreaming of a life I will never have. But most of all, I'm tired of being tired.

This entire speech ran through Stephanie's quick mind, yet her lips didn't have the courage to form the words.

"It's more than that," Bruce observed her, with a careful eye.

So they had noticed, and they were concerned. But would they understand? She doubted it.

"It's nothing guys, relax."

Rogers grabbed the last Greek yogurt out of the fridge, and made a show of opening it and plopping a spoon into the creamy strawberriness. She took several bites, created satisfying "mmms" and other noises. When she finished, she made another magnificent shot into the trash can, and turned to the Black Widow with her hands in the air. "Satisfied? There's breakfast."

"Thine Captain, you cannot presume us that dense. We have noticed that you have been acting strangely in the last days," Thor breathed a heavy sigh.

"Is it about Penn Carter?" Stark pressed the mute button on the TV, and actually acted serious for once, with worried interest sketched onto his features.

"Relax, soldier," Stephanie couldn't help but fall into her Army-accent every now and again. "I'm fine. What we should be worrying about is how to fill up the fridge again."

"Until you tell us what's wrong, the fridge is going to have to wait," Bruce snapped at her, and placing his palm against Cap's forehead. She had to bend her knees and he had to stand on the tip of his toes in order to fix the extreme height difference.

"You seem hot," he muttered.

"That's a compliment, Capsicle! Treat it as so!" Stark winked.

Breaking away from the doctor's grasp, Stephanie strided to the couch, grabbed a hard pillow for ammo, and shot it at Stark. It hit his forearms, since his reflexes were fast enough to cover his face.

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the iceberg today," he added, holding up the previously thrown pillow as a shield, in case the supersoldier decided to break his nose or something. Instead, she rolled her eyes and walked over to the coffee machine, pouring herself a mug.

"I wasn't finished with you," Banner hissed.

"Bruce, I can't get sick. It's part of this damn chemical mixture running through my veins," Stephanie leaned against the counter next to Romanoff.

"How do you feel?" he still insisted on checking her out, reaching for her forehead again. She slapped his hand away as gently as she could.

"Ouch!" he shouted, shaking out his hand.

"Sorry, it's just - stop touching me. I'm fine. I just beat the hell out of punching bags for four hours, so I'm a little on the heated side," she said matter-of-fact.

With that, she stormed out of the kitchen and entered the elevator. The doors shut with an abrupt _THUMP_.

"Yeah, she is definitely _not _okay," Clint hopped down from his perch.

"Give her a break, she's been through a lot. I think we all forget too often that's she actually the youngest of us, if you don't count the time in the ice," Bruce shrugged.

"Sure as hell doesn't act like it," Tony spat, pouring himself some more hard alcohol.

"She was also trained to be a leader," Banner walked over, and took the glass out of Tony's hand. "And that is enough alcohol before ten a.m., Mister Stark. Doctor's orders."

"I would agree with Doctor Banner, sir," Jarvis entered the conversation.

"Oh, piss off. You too, J. Or I'll reprogram you so that you only sing Christmas carols," Tony hissed, snatching it back.

Just then, the glass doors slid open and Pepper walked in wearing her "days-off" clothes. A pair of Miss-Me's, an eyelet blouse, and a loose ponytail...however, a stern expression was shown on her features, and fire sweltered in her eyes.

"Who pissed off Rogers?" she slammed her tablet on the counter.

"Why, what'd she do? Threaten to strangle you with her patriotic bra?" Tony smirked.

"Can you be serious for fucking five goddamn seconds?!" Natasha slapped him on the cheek. After Tony was done popping his jaw, Pepper took a swing.

"OW! JESUS!"

"For your information, I met her in the elevator and it looked like she was close to bursting out in tears.

"That's bullshit. Captain America doesn't cry," Clint shrugged.

"I'm not talking about Captain America. I'm talking about Stephanie Rogers. And my guess is that Stephanie Rogers does cry," Pepper seemed dangerous.

Just then, red lights and sirens erupted from various places in the Tower.

"Fury requests your presence on the helicarrier as soon as possible," Jarvis's calm voice came over the PA system.

Without a word, and just quick looks at each other to communicate, the Avengers ran out of the room.

"Avengers assemble," Natasha muttered, sprinting from the room in the direction of her catsuit at a remarkable pace.

**x.X.x**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**x.X.x**

Rated T for depression/language/violence

Dedicated to Katelyn and Joely

Author's Note:

_IMPORTANT: Let's pretend Coulson never died in the Avengers, just because I want to use him in here._

_Just in case you were wondering, this takes place after Avengers but before IM3 or the other sequals._

_So, I know Stephanie is pretty non-Captain America-ish, but I think a lot of people forget that how much Steve must be struggling emotionally. I've observed that in the first CA, Steve was all jokey and could ease off and enjoy life sometimes. But in the Avengers, I can't remember him legitly smiling. Thus, I have come to the conclusion that he's a pretty fucked up person. We all are, speaking honestly, but Mr. Patriotic TimeLord must be more messed up than the rest of us._

_And knowing me, that's saying something._

_Disclaimer: hey, guess what? I don't own marvel. "Omg, *gasp*" I know. It's astonishing, really. But it's so damn true._

_This is also now posted on WattPad. My user is FindYourInnerLoki :)_

_Anyways, you must be sick of reading stuff I have to say. No one reads the Author Notes anyways._

_Yet I still write them._

_Huh._

_~HogwartsAsWeKnowIt_

**x.X.x**

After a speeding trip in the Avengers's quinjet, they embarked onto SHIELD's helicarrier, with Nicky Fury in his badass leather attire standing there to greet him. They were currently sailing, heading north in the Atlantic. Rogers exited the plane first, shaking the Director's hand. Wind whipped at her wispy curls, and sea breeze filled her lungs. The waves lapped against the hull of the ship, drowning out the powerful engines.

"Director," she nodded, with her back straight as a rod. Clint rolled his eyes at the strict Army posture.

"Captain. Good to see you again. C'mon, let's go inside," Fury commanded, and the heroes followed him into the bridge, taking a seat at the table. Various agents rushed around, with papers and different electronics. Everyone had their specific, little mission. The place was so tight and orderly, Stark could feel a headache coming on.

"Remind why you've assembled our asses?" Tony leaned back in the chair, the face mask of his helmet up so everyone could observe his bored expression. His iron-clad feet made a _CLANK _as he rested them on the table. His arms were crossed, as if he would rather be anywhere else asides Nick's one-eyed presence.

"SHIELD has been monitoring several different terrorist groups that some of you have had the unfortunate experience of meeting. At first, we thought that you had destroyed them, but now they're starting to pop back up, stronger than ever. It also appears that they are uniting. SHIELD can't handle this alone," Nick hissed, as if the five words caused him great difficulty to say. "That's why I'm calling you in. I've already lost more agents than needed, who sacrificed themselves to get the data I just told you."

"What type of terrorist groups?" Natasha asked, leaning in closer.

"The Ten Rings and AIM," Fury glared at the billionaire.

Shock and pure terror took over Tony, and he gawked at the Director. "EXCUSE ME! I FUCKING BLEW THOSE ASSES UP! LIKE TWENTY TIMES!"

"What's their play?" Stephanie turned on her expressionless I-Am-Motherfucking-Captain-America-Don't-Mess-With-Me mode.

"They have appeared to have teamed up, and are working on some kind of Iron Man replica," Nick answered.

"Shit. It's always the suit. _Always_ the suit!" Tony through his hands up with an exasperated sigh.

"That's not all, is it?" Barton asked, reading the expression on his Director's face.

"Unfortunately not. The Red Room, now called 2R, is also in on it."

"No," Romanoff whispered, tightened her grip on the armrests. The trained assassin actually looked like she was about to loose her cool.

"What else?" Clint knew he wasn't finished.

"HYDRA."

Rogers's jaw tightened, stretching the skin on her cheekbones. She stared at the blank wall in front of her, watching bloody and horrendous flashbacks that were only alive in her mind. The single word brought back a misery of memories.

Tony was also struggling. The Ten Rings was the reason he had a heart full of shrapnel, and an arc reactor alive in his chest. They had tortured him, and almost killed him in Afghanistan, and they would probably be quick to do it again.

Of all the things in the Widow's scarred past, the Red Room was something she wished to forget beyond anything else. They had brainwashed her, and biologically turned her into a killing machine. They were the reason for her lack of childhood...everything. The Red Room was the reason she had red gushing in her ledger, because they had dipped a paintbrush in blood and splattered it in on her innocence.

Watching their teammates' reactions, Clint, Thor and Bruce couldn't help to be a little startled, and scared. It took a LOT of pain to snap a supersoldier, master assassin, and Tony Stark.

"Are you guys gonna be okay fighting them?" Fury crossed his arms.

"What? Hell yes. The more I get to fire bullets into their brains, the better," Tony nodded.

"Agreed," Black Widow smirked.

"Captain?" Fury questioned, turning to the female Avenger.

She hesitated, eyes lost in a world of horrors. "Definitely."

"Good. For your first mission, I'm going to have to send you into California, USA. I believe they are going to have a meeting tomorrow night in an abandoned warehouse, north of the state's capital, Sacramento. I want you all to get in there, get information, and get back out. Am I clear?"

"Clear."

**x.X.x**

"Are you sure you're up for this mission?" Tasha whispered to Stephanie as they both entered the quinjet. It was the day after their meeting with Fury, and they were beginning their journey from New York to the west coast.

"Of course. Why do you ask?" she replied politely, louder than Natasha had asked the question.

"I mean, earlier, you seemed, I don't know-"

"I'm fine. I'm ready for whatever these bastards throw at us. I mean, I've got a shield to deflect it," she winked.

The spy didn't smile. "You seem to be saying 'I'm fine' more than usual lately."

"So? It's a good response to a majority of questions. I've got to go, I'm co-piloting with Barton," she briskly walked away from the red head.

For several moments, Natasha stood with her hands on her hips, contemplating.

If there was something wrong with Rogers, like she presumed, it would take a helluva lot of effort to yank it out of her. Stephanie hid everything so well. Was there any way to break her protective shell?

**x.X.x**

Although the flight was only an hour in the high-speed, expensive machine, it was decided that Clint would pilot for half-an-hour, and then Romanoff would take over for the remainder of the trip. With a shrug, the Captain had agreed to co-pilot both shifts.

Little conversation had passed between the heroes as they lounged around the back of the jet. Surprisingly, no one seemed nervous. It felt like a car-ride to the nearest fast food restaurant when one of them had been to lazy to cook dinner (this happened quite often). With quick, precise steps, Natasha had been pacing the floor, thinking. Tony sat in the corner, fully attired in his metal armor, browsing files on his tablet (aka the StarkPad). To no one's surprise, the Asgardian snored in the corner. For the last half-hour, Bruce had been diligently writing in a notebook, no doubt full of scientific equations. Asides the roar of the turbons and Thor's thunderous [no pun intended] sleeping, there was little noise. When Clint came out stretching his arms and greeted the Widow, Stark nearly jumped out of his seat.

"Oh. It's Bird Brains," he muttered, before instantly returning to the screen in his hand.

"Glad to see you too. You're welcome for driving this damn plane," Hawkeye snapped.

"Boys, don't argue," the master assassin said in a motherly tone.

As she walked into the cockpit, the billionaire and archer continued their squabble.

"Will they ever stop arguing?" she rubbed her forehead, taking a seat next to the blonde.

"Probably not," Rogers replied, handing her the black headset.

Taking a seat in front of the numerous controls, Romanoff went straight to work, flipping switches and clicking buttons. Stephanie watched her silently. It wasn't that long ago the soldier had been taught by the Hawk on how to drive the plane. It took hours of patience from Clint, but soon, Cap was able to fly it by herself. This was an achievement, and Stephanie couldn't be more grateful. She would never need to crash a plane in the Atlantic again.

"How have the boys been?" Stephanie smirked.

"Surprisingly calm. Except Thor's snoring is about as loud as a herd of elephants."

Although she didn't laugh, Cap smiled.

Sometimes Tasha felt jealous of the Captain, because she was so fucking gorgeous. Her azul eyes were constantly sparkling, her full lips were almost always adorned with deep red lipstick. She wore a little mascara, but that was it for makeup, simply because she didn't need it. Sometimes, the spy thought she was from some tanning magazine because her skin was the flawless, golden glow that every girl desired. Her hair was a shining blonde, curled and cut to the forties style, but it framed her face well. She managed to stay pretty true to her era as far as fashion went. No, she didn't wear dresses all the time, but instead went for a male-ish look, wearing slacks and collared shirts. One of the few times she wore modern styles is when she was working out, or if Tony had forced Stephanie to attend a business meeting for Stark Industries, and thus wore a worldly dress. Nobody had been able to catch her in anything sleeveless, and Stark was still trying to get her to wear a skirt that went higher than four inches above the knee.

Currently, she was dressed in her Captain America outfit. After the Battle of New York, it was so badly torn that there was no point in fixing it. Thus, Stephanie had worked with an ecstatic Phil Coulson and had redesigned one, creating something similar to the suit she had used back in the forties. It had a belt with plenty of pouches and holsters, and lots of straps and padding. Instead of an attached helmet, she wore a separate helmet that looked like it was straight out of a World War 2 museum. The material of the clothing wasn't tight, with baggy cargo pants. For the majority of the time, she wore brown combat boots. The top half of the torso was a shade of blue that matched her eyes, and there was red straps that corresponded with her lipstick. On most people it would have looked dorky, nerdy even. But Stephanie pulled it off so well, it was fricking _attractive_. Another reason the red-head was a little jealous.

Seeing as they were the only two women on a team full of males, they naturally had a bond. Yet, they didn't really have a deep friendship. Sure, they had trust in one another, but that was part of being a team. There wasn't any true...loyalty? No, that's not the right word. They just weren't the type of friends that would trust the other with their deepest, darkest secrets.

"What should I expect from HYDRA?" Natasha attempted to start a conversation to pass the time. Watching clouds and blueness float by can get boring after five seconds.

"They're ruthless, fearless. They believe so strongly in their beliefs that they're willing to stroll right into hell if that's what HYDRA wants," Stephanie didn't look over at the spy, and instead kept her gaze on the window.

"Like the Nazis?"

* "No. The Nazis you could persuade. During the later years of the war, Germany was running out of volunteers. Soon, they had thirteen year olds with machine guns trying the beat twenty-year-old, trained American troops. The damn Germans were playing their last card, and it was weak. Hitler's worse move was when he tricked the U.S.S.R., because then he lost the Soviet Union's support, and Stalin's trust. When the Russians started to fight them and team up with the Allies, Germany knew they didn't have a chance. Thus, their soldiers were giving up. They weren't properly fed, and they were loosing their patriotism. All of Hitler's damn, brainwashed promises were broken. They had nothing to keep them going. I mean, you get get them to fight on the American's side if you offered the kid a loaf of bread. It was horrible. But HYDRA didn't run out of funding. Recruits kept signing up. Their motto was 'Cut off one head, two more shall take it's place'. After the Howling Commandos and I destroyed all of their Europeon bases and I killed Schmit, I thought they were over. At every base we conquered, they fought to the last man. There must of been a few survivors, I guess, but they were probably scared as hell. I never would have dreamed in a million years, that they would dare restarting with me around. But I was missing for awhile, so they must have thought they were okay. I'm going to prove them wrong," she said the last sentence with a stiff nod.

"Wow," was all the red-head could manage. "Could you tell me more?"

"About?"

"About the war."

"Why?" Rogers snapped.

"It's fascinating."

"Hmph," Stephanie breathed. "What do you want to know?"

"Did you ever go to a Nazi concentration camp for Jews?"

"Unfortunately," was the Captain's only response.

"You don't have to tell me," she quickly added. She didn't want to cross the line.

* "If you want to know, you should. It was living hell. It was _worse _than hell. Hell doesn't seem like a strong enough word to describe it. Bodies, everywhere. Rotting, piled up on trucks, getting stepped on, or burned in bonfires for the Nazi's entertainment. The people were kept in chain-linked fences, as if they were stray animals. But the worse part was the 'concentration'. The Nazis ordered you to dig a five-foot deep hole, and then fill it up again. Physical labor was their main torture, such as making the Jews move a pile of bricks and then move it back again. And at that point, they were so damn skinny, weak, and underfed, it was amazing they stayed on their feet. To survive, many of them had to eat the caucuses of the unfortunate souls before them. There were whips, like cat'o'nine tails, and they were used _constantly. _Imagine-"

"Sorry, but, how do you know all this?"

"Once, I had to go undercover for a day. The Americans needed more information about the camps. They needed someone strong enough to survive whatever torturing the Nazis could throw at them. So, of course, guess who got signed up?"

"Oh my god," Romanoff stared at the blonde, wide-eyed.

"The physical pain, I could wipe off in a day. The mental took a little longer to get ahold of."

"Ya know, has anyone thanked you for your service?"

With a turn of the head, Rogers answered, "Now that I think about it, I don't think so."

"You're kidding."

"Marilyn Monroe may of, and so did the president, but as far as a simple American citizen...no."

"Well, I was originally Russian, so I don't know if this counts...but thank you, Captain Rogers, for your loyal and sacrificing service to our country," she said in a grand voice, as if she was a commenter on a basketball game.

Bursting out in laughter, Stephanie said, "Well tell Russia 'you're welcome' for me."

"Will do," she nodded.

As enjoyable silence engulfed the room again, Natasha couldn't help but feeling a warm sensation in her chest. It almost seemed like a barrier had broken between them. And it felt good.

**x.X.x**

_That little box below looks pretty empty. Why don't you fill it up with some love? :3_

_Thanks for reading!_

_* These WWII rants are based on the knowledge of a seventh grader. Sorry if they're a little off. But I tried to do some research, and I'm pretty sure they're about 78.3% accurate, if not more._

**x.X.x**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**x.X.x**

Rated T for depression/language/violence

Dedicated to Katelyn and Joely

Author's Note:

_Bonjour, my muffins._

_REVIEW CHALLENGE: comment your favorite line from this chapter. :)_

_Btw, I am a Californian and have been my entire thirteen year old existence. So if I make fun of the state in any way...it's probably true... And the area I'll be describing is like Sonoma/Wine Country, in case you start wondering._

_~HogwartsAsWeKnowIt_

**x.X.x**

When they landed, it was in an overgrown field about fifteen miles away from the warehouse where the supposed meeting was to take place. They still had several hours to spare, and therefore were able to enjoy the Californian scenery at a leisurely pace. However, they were still on alert, senses alive and ready to pick up the faintest sound. Bird chirps and the wind rustling leaves were the only audible noises, giving them a relaxing enviroment. As the sun warmed their skin, it was easy to feel laid back and lazy... no wonder Californians were so calm until a party. Yet in the Northern region, it wasn't exactly the stereotypical "hey dude" and surfers and other shit. To be honest, there wasn't a soul to be seen. The Avengers had landed in a sort of farming land, with the jet startling a few poor cows. Battered white fences lined the hills, with the occasional tree here and there. It must have been quite a photography moment: a walking American flag; a red and gold robot looking thing; a buff guy who looked like a Roman soldier from ancient times yet had the hair and tan of a Florida lifeguard; a sexy red-head in tight, dark, mysterious attire; a bare-armed brunette carrying a bow; and then just some scrawny guy in a T-shirt and slacks... And all of them were just peacefully walking through a field among sheep, horses and other barnyard animals. It looked like a scene out of a science fiction book or movie, such as Star Wars or Doctor Who.

Surprisingly, the Avengers were in a good mood, or rather tolerating each other better than normal. This was especially astonishing in Tony's case, seeing as he had just been forced to sit in a plane for six hours. Sometimes the genius could act like a bratty five year old, with the entire "I want what I want when I want it and I want it now" act. This was one of the main things that drove the Captain crazy. In her childhood, she was taught to treasure and save all that she owned. Nothing went unused, unappreciated, or forgotten, especially during her younger years with the Great Depression. When you had money, it was spent on things you _needed_, such as a roof over your head. Bread and other goods were baked at home, and were eaten so sparingly that it would last a week or two, even though it would start to get stale at the end. Toys and other means of expensive enjoyment were rare, hardly ever available.

On the other hand, Tony Stark had the world in his fingertips since he was a boy. There was so much money around the house that it was taken for granted. His father carried around two-thousand cash everyday in his wallet that he kept in his pocket, just because that was his "spending money". Although he'd never admit it in a million years, Tony had picked up some habits from Howard. Whenever he opened his wallet he loved to see crisp one hundred-dollar bills, sometimes even thirty. Of course, he had never really had a fatherly or motherly figure in the house, which proves money can't buy everything. Love can purchase so much more.

Occasionally, Stephanie couldn't help but feeling jealous of Tony, but for understandable reasons. Stark was always the "cool, rich kid" with the badass clothes. His first car was a 1966 Fastback Ford Mustang, which really stood out in the school parking lot. School was too easy for him that he didn't even need to try when it came to Algebra, Science, Geometry, and History. He had always been the jock and star of the basketball, soccer, and football teams. To make friends, he didn't even have to smile at the person. Girlfriends were easy; he must have gone through every hot chick in school.

Stephanie never had that. Any of it. And Tony constantly took it as normal, or thought of it as everyday stuff, as if everyone had had his experience in High School. Most of the time, Cap just wanted to punch him in the face and bring him to his senses. Sometimes she actually did.

Thoughts like these couldn't help but cross her mind as the group of misfits continued through the field. Romanoff and Barton were in deep conversation about the news in SHIELD, while Bruce and Tony talked about scientific stuff that makes absolutely no sense to someone with the average intelligence [such as myself]. Thor was feebly attempting to make conversation with Rogers, but she kept answering with single words, making it hard to keep the flow going. Since she didn't feel like talking, she didn't; eventually the thunder god gave up and moved next to the Science Bros, discussing similarities between Asgardian magic and Midgardian science.

Stephanie continued to walk in the stiff Army fashion. _Right, left, right, left, right, left, shoulders back, chin up, eyes ahead, right, left, right, left, right, left. _The order ran itself in her head, as if it was part of her brain's programming. She could almost hear the distant voices of her commanding officers in her head...

_"Go! Go! Go! Rogers, get that rifle out of that mud!"_

_"Get your ass up out of that dirt, son and stand at the line of attention until somebody come tells you what to do."_

She was never good enough at the boot camp. Always a few feet behind the group she was running with...twenty push-ups short of the usual... During the war, she was finally receiving the satisfying feeling of being appreciated, loved, and being worth it. Then, as soon as it reached her, it crushed her into a dark, frozen wasteland of shit. Now she was stuck here, and still not good enough. She'd always be behind in technology, music, fashion...everything that made up today's American culture. Once again, the crushing reality of _I just don't fucking belong here_ came crashing down into her soul.

_"Rogers! Get out of there!"_

_"Fall in! Get back into formation! Rogers, I said FALL IN!"_

_"Pick up the pace, ladies! Let's go! Let's go! C'mon! Faster, faster! Moveee!"_

Even Penn's stern voice bounced in like echos: _"C'mon, faster ladies! My grandmother had more life in her, God rest her soul. MOVE IT!"_

Immediently, Penn Carter filled her mind and she paused for a moment, wincing, and trying to block out the memories. She had found that the easiest way to deal with it was just keep it bottled down, locked where no one could find it. Once her mind was clear, she regained her steady gait.

"You alright Rogers?"

She heard Clint's voice behind her. With a reassuring smile, she answered, "Yeah, yeah I'm good." She prayed that the grin didn't look as fake as it felt.

"Just checking."

"Hey, Steph!" Tony called from the back, and quickly jogged to the front to catch up to the leader. To keep up with the super soldier, he had to widen his steps.

"Ya know, I've always wondered something when I was a kid reading about you in school," he started. By now, the other heroes were eavesdropping, curious to what the two frenemies were saying.

"What would that be?" Rogers raised an eyebrow.

"When you crashed the plane, did you really think you were going to die?"

Her jaw tightened, and her eyes became unfocused. After a few seconds, she snapped back to reality. "Not the best subject, Stark. But if you want to be that way, let's talk about you almost dying in Afghanistan, hmm?"

"Hey, I'm asking you the questions!" he snapped, somehow still managing a joking tone. "Oh, and one more thing. Did you and Penn Carter ever...fuck?"

"You mean, fondue?" she turned a deep shade of scarlett.

The other Avengers exchanged glances before bursting out in laughter.

"Fondue?! Did you just say _fondue_? Is that some forties slang for sex?" Natasha asked, trying to control her sniggering.

"Not exactly. Did I not tell you guys that story yet?" Stephanie couldn't help but laughing a little too. It felt good. Nourishing. Refreshing.

"To be honest, you haven't really told us that many Army stories," Bruce nodded his head.

"Yes, I would like to hear more of your valiant tales!" Thor boomed.

She glanced at her watch. "We've got time. I could tell a few. Now, which one do you want first? The one where Bucky hid a dead cat in the dorm, or when I was tricked into thinking fondue was actually a word for sex? Or there's also the time when the entire band of Howling Camandos got drunk and I kept being commanded to strip down...that was an interesting night..."

"You had some batshit crazy nights then," Tony smiled in approvement. "Sounds like me."

"Your idea of batshit crazy is being a playboy at 3 am in the fucking morning. I'm not sure the Captain has ever done that," Natasha pointed out.

"Oh be quiet, Natashalie," Tony hissed. "Or has she?"

"What are you suggesting?" Stephanie turned towards the billionaire, eyebrows raised.

"That maybe you're not a virgin after all."

"You have serious brain issues, Mr. Stark. I am 100% clean," she raised her hands in the air.

"I need to change that," Tony winked.

"WHOA! WHAT JUST HAPPENED?! DID YOU JUST TRY AND FLIRT WITH CAPTAIN AMERICA?!" Barton grabbed Tony's shoulder. "I'M TELLING PEPPER!"

"No! I just meant that I want to find her some lucky guy! I don't want to be her boyfriend! What is wrong with you?!" Tony tried to take it back, but the damage was done.

"Whatever you say, **возлюбленный**," Natasha smirked.

**x.X.x**

After about an hour of a light jog (the non-superhero peeps sort of running), they reached a dense forest. Stephanie was used to the woods, with all her mission work with the Howling Comandos and she almost felt at home. The scent of pine needles filled her senses, and the wind rustling the leaves calmed the many fucked up thoughts in her brain. With extreme enthusiasm, she began a contest between the Avengers on who could leap the farthest from tree to tree. Unfortunately, Tony and Thor had an unfair advantage with the entire "I can fucking fly in red and gold or grab down lightning from the heavens" thing. Therefore, the competition was more for Cap, Nat, Clint and Bruce. Banner purposely disqualified himself so that he could just walk on the ground like a normal person while the remainder of the chemical confusion called the Avengers swung around the trees like monkeys. The doctor just observed his team mates and tried to judge who was winning. With her strength, Steph was definitely in the lead, leaping boldly from limb to limb. The two assassins were not that far behind, jumping with powerful jolts. Compared to the super soldier, however, it was rather pathetic.

"So what's the plan when we get in there, Miss Patriotic Sports Bra?" Stark flew by the Captain, as she landed on a particular thick branch.

"Don't call me that, you damn asshat. Now's not the time," she hissed. It was a simple, snarky comment; she was used to Tony's pathetic excuse of humor. However, she couldn't help feeling a little bit of pain, no matter how stupid the insult was. Was that all she was to them? A muscle-y teenager in red, white, and blue?

Shut up, soldier,

she told her brain.

She began to command orders with a stern voice: "Look, we'll enter through the trees; more cover. Thor and Stark, you need to stay on the ground. We don't need unwanted attention by you flying all over the sky. Our goal today is to get information. If there's any way to go undercover, the plans may change. We'll all go in on foot, through the trees so that we can have shelter. According to Fury, the head of each of the goddamn organizations are gathering in that warehouse tonight. They'll probably have guards surrounding them, if not armies. We don't want to make a fuss. I presume they know about SHIELD on their tail, but if they don't find out about us it'll be in our favor."

"Did you just attempt and fail at a Hunger Games quote?"

"Clint, shut up."

"Moving on, I think I should repeat that we don't want to make a fuss. Just slip in, slip out...no fighting."

"If we aren't fighting, they why are we dressed in various costumes?" Natasha raised an eyebrow.

"Just in case."

**x.X.x**

When they reached a crest of a hill, the Captain motioned for them to slow down and be silent. Getting on her stomach, she crawled over the edge and surveyed the area. It was a sort of valley with walls of trees and grass surrounding it. In the center was a building made of steel, and looked as big as a Super-Walmart. Men in black uniforms held AK-47s and paced in front of the doors in an Army like manner.

"Dammit," she cursed. Cautiously, she backed up out of sight and returned to her waiting teammates.

"There's more security then I thought there would be. We'll have to be extra careful. The north exit is pretty clear; not as many there. We could probably make a silent entrance and then hide while they have the meeting. I only want Romanoff, Barton, and I entering the building until I know more about the situation. Until then, we can communicate through the comms. Stark, Thor, and Banner: split up and observe the three exits. Let's-"

She was cut off when the deafening sound of a helicopter approached; the team watched as the impressive metal beast flew overhead then landed in the grass next to the warehouse building.

The door opened, and two men in business suits hopped out. Then a man in a WW2 HYDRA uniform hopped out with impressive agility.

Stephanie's eyes widened. After gagging, she turned around and actually vomited onto the forest floor. All of the Avengers galked at her, Bruce being the first to rest his hand on her forehead.

"Rogers?" Clint asked hesitantly.

Pushing the doctor's hand away, Stephanie stood back up with a determined expression on her face. In her blue eyes, fire burned; she grasped her shield with the tightest grip she could muster. With two short steps she was looking over the edge again. Pure hatred filled her eyes as the German entered the warehouse. To the Avengers, he looked like your average guy, but she knew better.

Stephanie knew about the horrors under his mask. She knew about the dark eyes and scarlett skull. How was he alive... It didn't matter. What mattered now was that if she wasn't careful, her worst enemy was going to start World War 3.

She was watching the warehouse door close behind a man more powerful than Hitler. A man who was responsible for the death of thousands, including her best friend. A man who had torn her from the past and planted her in the hell hole of 2012.

And that man's name was Johann Schmit.

Even if it took her last breath, Stephanie was not going to rest until Red Skull's existence was diminished.

**x.X.x**

**возлюбленный (Russian) = sweetheart**

_Not the most interesting chapter. But I hope you like the ending. DUN DUN DUN RED SKULLLL._

_And a little review response to Pear pie (Guest): Thank you! There does need to be more Fem!Steve stories! I'm glad you're enjoying it, and no you're not crazy, Steve is truly messed up. And I'm really happy someone is enjoying my Sismance!Stasha :3 And yes, both your reviews were received by me through email. ;)_

_Please review! They make my day!_

_Thanks for reading, sugar crumpets!_

**x.X.x**


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